


explorations of character

by your resident insomniac (itsaterriblelove)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Zen | Ryu Hyun-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaterriblelove/pseuds/your%20resident%20insomniac
Summary: What will probably be a collection of Zen-centric one-shots examining his life and relationships
Relationships: Han Jumin & Zen | Ryu Hyun, Han Jumin/Zen | Ryu Hyun
Kudos: 32





	explorations of character

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Day 6 in Zen's Route, "What Jumin Believes"
> 
> Mild alcohol and drug abuse, hurt/comfort
> 
> Can you tell I don't know what I'm doing?

“Fuck!” There’s a crash inside, and Jumin frowns. “One second!” There’s a few more muffled curses before the door swings open to reveal Zen with only one of his crutches. His silver hair spills loose over one shoulder like a cascade of stars, and his face is slightly flushed. His shirt is barely done-up, loosely held together by two buttons, and exposes the fine lines of his collarbones, and Jumin feels the urge to dip his head and taste that milky pale skin, to nip at the flawless expanse of smooth muscle stretching over his chest… As awful as the actor says he’s been doing, he still looks beautiful. Jumin wets his lips and clears his throat to get rid of the desirous words bubbling in his chest. 

Zen finally looks up at him, just a flash of ruby red pupils through fine silver lashes, and his face falls before he steps back and slams the door. Jumin blinks, dumbfounded, at the closed door. Sure, they’ve never had the best relationship and Jumin knows that Zen may not be thrilled about him visiting, but that still hurt. He hasn’t done anything to warrant such a cold response.

“Open the door, Zen,” Jumin calls, rather good-naturedly, in his opinion, but all he gets is a, “Fuck off, trust fund jerk!” in response. He sighs and knocks again. “Stop being so childish and let me in.” 

“I said to fuck off, asshole!” Then there’s a second door slam that Jumin assumes is the door of Zen’s bedroom. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone and messages the RFA app’s chat.

[ Han Jumin: I’m just going to keep knocking, you know. ]

[ Han Jumin: then when your neighbors come to complain, ]

[ Han Jumin: you can explain it to them. ]

He receives an angry emoji from Zen, and a smirk pulls across his face. Assured of his victory, he pockets his phone and patiently begins knocking loudly and nonstop on the door. Sure enough, within seconds, Zen is yanking the door open with a dark expression before spinning and limping off to kitchen. Jumin steps in, shuts the door behind him, and takes in the small but cozy apartment. Zen comes back out of the kitchen with a few cans of beer that he drops onto the coffee table, and he falls onto the couch before opening a can and draining it in seconds. He pops open the second one before leaning back and tapping a cigarette out of the box. As much as Jumin hates to admit it, his eyes are glued that cancerous white stick as it rests between soft-looking pink lips. Zen’s eyes are half-lidded as he lights it, and he takes a deep drag before glancing over in Jumin’s direction. His lips part minutely to let the smoke escape, and he inhales it again through his nose this time. His expression is nearly… orgasmic, and Jumin shifts uncomfortably where he stands. 

He takes a steadying breath before asking disapprovingly, “What are you doing, Zen?” 

The younger man’s lips tilt in a lazy, sardonic smirk as he gestures at all of himself with a slender hand. “Can’t you tell? I’m making ‘foolish decisions’ because all I’m good at is ‘running away’ despite being an adult.” He shrugs and brings the cigarette back up to take another drag before blowing it in Jumin’s direction. The businessman frowns and paces forward to sit carefully on the couch beside Zen. He’s about to speak when the silver-haired man interrupts him. “Ever tried smoking, Director Han?” 

“No, I don’t see the value of doing such things,” he answers, and Zen lets his head loll to one side in order to flash him a disarming smile. “Maybe you should try it,” Zen says and begins to get off the couch, but Jumin catches his wrist without thinking and pulls him back. One of Zen’s knees lands on the couch next to his thigh, and his free hand is braced on the back of couch so that he’s hovering over the older man. Jumin’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity, but Zen, loose from the alcohol and nicotine, is quick to adapt. The actor just sits down to straddle his lap and drapes an arm over his shoulder. Eyes dark, he murmurs, “It’s rather addicting,” before taking another drag and leaning in. He hears a quick, nervous breath from the man beneath him before their lips press together. Zen parts his mouth to drag his tongue along Jumin’s bottom lip, teasing the other’s mouth open to pass him the hit. When he pulls back, Jumin’s pupils are blown dark with want, and his mouth is still parted and damp. 

Jumin’s in a daze as he processes what just happened, mind whirling in circles as he realizes that Zen has just kissed him, but his body is honest, sending blood down to tent his slacks. 

Zen huffs out a breathy laugh as he moans, “God, of all the people I could've fallen in love with, why is it you, Jumin?” The body beneath him jolts and tenses, and Jumin’s hands feel like they’re burning where they move to grip his hips. “How nice would it be if you actually liked me?” 

For the first time, Jumin is tongue-tied and lost, so he just crushes Zen to his chest and buries his face into his silky hair. He ignores the heat in his stomach and pleads, “Stop destroying yourself, Zen. I love you too, so much it hurts, but please, stop.” Zen is still in his arms for a moment before he melts into the embrace, breath stuttering and chest shuddering against his own as he lets out a sob. 

“I’m so tired, hyung,” Zen cries, hands fisting in the back of Jumin’s perfectly-ironed shirt. Jumin just presses a kiss to his hair and holds him tighter, as though he wants to press Zen into his bones and keep him there. “I tried going back, but they didn’t want me anymore. I already knew, but why did it still hurt so much? What did I do wrong?" 

"Nothing," is all he can say. For all his eloquence, he can't think of anything he can say to ease Zen's pain, so all he can do is be there for the other man as he cries and hiccups into his jacket. "You're perfect, Zen."


End file.
